This is a photo of the area I call Stephens Lane in my books. You can just make out the church at the top of the street. Ivy would have pushed her pram along this street almost daily.

These houses form part of a large square that hides The Lane. The entrance you can see to the right of the picture is where Ivy and friends would have entered and where Father Leary loomed at times.

The view into The Lane.

You can see the bones of the old livery in this building. I vividly remember the livery. American film stars would stable their horses here when they visited Ireland on publicity tours. As a baby I was put on Roy Roger’s horse Trigger’s back. I have no memory of this honour but was told of it frequently when the old movies played on television.

A lot of people have remarked about the amount of tea the characters in my books drink. I’m an addict. I go nowhere without my own supply of tea made from loose tea leaf never tea bags if I can help it.

Growing up in Dublin the first thing anyone did when greeting friend or foe was put the kettle on. When I lived in America I found it very difficult to understand why I was never offered a drink as soon as I put my foot over someone’s threshold.

The world I write about is or was real. I grew up listening to the tales about The Lane. The bones of that place still exist for anyone who wants to take the time to stroll around it.

I write about the poor of Dublin. I was born in the tenement buildings in what we called The Lane. My family were moved out when the place was razed to bring in ‘improvements’ in living conditions. My parents till the day they died never stopped talking about the life and community they had enjoyed there.

The family visited the few lucky people who had managed to get houses in the new and improved Lane so I am very familiar with the area even now.

I took some photographs on a recent walk around Dublin. I’ll post them on here for your enjoyment. The mad woman with the walking stick is me. I didn’t want to be in the pictures but my camerawoman (my daughter) just kept snapping and I seemed to be in the way.

I’ll put a notice and a brief insight into the place in my stories for each photo.

One side of Merrion Square with the park that was locked by key in front of me. Ann Marie’s uncles house is now an American School.

The author taking a break in Merrion Square Park. I still feel I shouldn’t be in there.

Walking across the park to reach another side of the square. This would be Ivy’s Monday morning ‘round’.

Merrion Square.

What we called Westland Row church – proper name Saint Andrew’s – but this is Father Leary’s church for my readers. Beautiful isn’t it?

Saint Andrew’s today. It did have a high railing around the altar in my day and in Ivy’s too.